


What He Does Not Have

by fictionalfeelsandfrustrations



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Masturbation, POV Dean Winchester, Prayer, voyeurism?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalfeelsandfrustrations/pseuds/fictionalfeelsandfrustrations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Dean prays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Does Not Have

**Author's Note:**

> A night of reading Destiel and needing to push my own introspection off onto someone else.

Sometimes, Dean prays. Not in his head, because something about that makes him feel like a schizoid. But out loud. Sometimes when Sam is so exhausted that he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. Or sometimes when Sam is working on something and is off without Dean. And Dean still feels crazy admitting this to himself, so he’d never tell anyone else, but he can _feel_ Cas listening.

 

He talks about everything. Like he’s on the phone with a friend. Which he sort of is. It’s like a direct line to his favorite angel. He tells Cas about the case they’re working on, about what he had for lunch or what he wishes he’d had time to eat for lunch. He talks about Sam. About what mood Sam’s in, which girl Sam looked at, why Sam’s hair is getting so damn long. Sometimes when it’s been an extra-long day, he tells Cas he misses him.

                 

He hopes he sounds friendly. You know. “Hey, Cas, buddy, haven’t seen you in a while. We miss you, man.” But he feels needy. “Cas, I hope you’re okay. You haven’t been by in a while and I miss you when you’re gone for this long.” He doesn’t want to come of like a teenager with a crush, so he tries for light and friendly. And, invariably, the next day Cas will show up. Sometimes Sam is there. When that happens, he says, “I thought I’d see if I could be of any help with the case you’re currently working.” Sometimes Sam isn’t there. Then he says, “I’m fine, Dean. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

 

They don’t touch. Dean wants to. Just to know that he’s really there and he’s Cas and he’s safe. But Cas is a gender-less, non-sexual angel of the lord and Dean doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s not even always sure he’s attracted to Cas. He just. Needs him.

 

One night, after Cas helps them with a nest of vampires, Dean jerks off thinking about Cas. Because after they hunt together, rest their lives in each other's hands, he's sure he's attracted to Cas. This isn’t the first time. But it’s the first time since he started praying. And when he’s just a few strokes away from orgasm, he can _feel_ Cas. Listening or watching, however that works. As that realization hits him, so does his climax, building from his toes like nothing he’s had in a while.

 

Dean doesn’t pray that night. He doesn’t know what to say.

 

The next time he jerks off, he thinks about Cas. Just to see. He can feel him listening from the beginning this time, and when he accidentally lets out a breathy moan around Cas’ name, he can feel the damn angel _preen_. And suddenly he’s laughing. Like he hasn’t laughed in ages, because he’s having psychic phone sex with an angel. And he wishes Cas were there with him, helping him. Imagining that pulls him back and he thrusts hotly into his hand, pretending it’s not his. He comes forcefully, dirtying the sheets and himself, thanking God and every angel in the Garrison that Sam is gone, because he growls Cas’ name and moans and arches, all of it for his angel’s listening pleasure.

 

Dean doesn’t pray that night, either. He’s already said everything he needs to. He just sighs, “I miss you,” as he drifts off to sleep.

 

The next day, Cas shows up while Dean and Sam are packing up. He says, “There’s a chupacabra the next state over. I may need your help taking care of it.” His eyes freeze Dean in place. “In fact, I think I’ll just leave it in your very capable hands.” He keeps his bright blue eyes trained on Dean.

 

Dean blushes, but Sam’s already geared up for another job and doesn’t notice. “You got it, Cas. Whatever you need,” Dean grunts.

 

Sam walks out the door with his bags. Dean expects Cas to leave quickly, like he always does. Instead he walks toward Dean. With only inches between them, Cas reaches up and touches Dean’s face, gently. “I miss you, too, Dean.”

 

Then he’s gone. Dean could swear he’d felt a brush of feathers where Cas’ fingers had been.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the poem Here I Love You by Pablo Neruda.
> 
> Read it here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/here-i-love-you-3/


End file.
